


i'm either gone in an instant or here til the bitter end (i never know)

by Panny



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Getting Together, Hurt Yuri Leclerc, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Cindered Shadows, Protective Balthus von Albrecht, Protective Yuri Leclerc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24154945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Panny/pseuds/Panny
Summary: In Imperial Year 1181, Garreg Mach Monastery was attacked by the Adrestian army and the archbishop disappeared. What had once represented a safe haven for many was all but abandoned for five long years.Balthus von Albrecht and Yuri Leclerc were both familiar with how hard life on the outside could be. And the archbishop's pardon didn't mean much with no one left to enforce it.
Relationships: Balthazar von Adalbrecht | Balthus von Albrecht/Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56
Collections: Hurt Comfort Exchange 2020





	i'm either gone in an instant or here til the bitter end (i never know)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadowsapiens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsapiens/gifts).



Balthus was pretty sure someone was trying to break into the house. Part of him had expected it, half-awake through the night, ready to jump at any sound that was even slightly out of place. It didn’t even matter if this was an attempted robbery (although, really, were things so bad they were already looting _this_ ramshackle hut?) or something more personally motivated. Their time in this town was done. It wouldn’t matter that Yuri sometimes came home from the market humming because he’d scored a good deal on produce. It wouldn’t matter that Balthus had found a masonry job that didn’t ask about his background and was willing to give him an advance on coin. It didn’t matter that they had nowhere better to go because while it had been risky to stay at the border of Alliance territory, the Kingdom and the Empire were active warzones. When Yuri returned, they’d have to pack what they could carry and move out before their names carried to someone who wasn’t sloppy enough to get caught.

But before that, Balthus would have to take care of their visitor before Yuri could return and happen upon them unaware. Not that he couldn’t take care of himself, but well. Pals didn’t let pals get ambushed. Even if the potential assailant seemed like an amateur.

The nice thing about being a big, brawny guy (aside from, well, the impressive physique in general and the simplicity of flirtation) was that people really underestimated how sneaky you could be. Everyone expected brash and loud and Balthus was ordinarily all too pleased to play to type. But he would never have lasted this long if he wasn’t capable of appealing to the better part of valour when need be. If they were trying to get in through the front door, then there was a good chance they didn’t know about the cellar.

Balthus eased the large wooden doors open slowly, careful to anticipate where the hinges might squeal. He hefted himself up onto the grass and crouched for a moment, still and listening. Once he was certain he was alone, he shuffled around the house at a slow creep. He was unarmed, which was more than fine by him. He’d given brief thought to the knife he knew Yuri kept hidden under the pillow and dismissed it. Not that he didn’t know how to use one, but it wasn’t his style. He’d just have to get the first hit in, hope there weren’t too many of them, and try to drop them quick.

He crept around the front of the house, muscles singing with tension. One lone figure, still fiddling with the door. Small guy. Good odds. Balthus moved closer, reared his fist back—

And only years of well-honed reflexes and fine motor control kept him from bringing it down on Yuri’s head. “What the hell are you doing?” The words near wheezed out of him as he fought the tremors of rapidly dispersing adrenaline. There wasn’t quite enough moonlight to make out the expression on Yuri’s face but—what did it matter when Balthus felt like he was going to have a heart attack?

“Lost my key,” Yuri said inanely. Like he couldn’t pick any lock as soon as look at it. What the hell?

Balthus blinked slowly, stalled for a moment, and then grabbed Yuri by the elbow. He intended to drag Yuri around to the cellar, expected him to scowl and hiss like a cat in a bathtub. He didn’t expect Yuri to obediently stumble a few steps before crashing into his side. Even with the height advantage, the close distance let Balthus get a good whiff of Yuri’s hair. “Are you drunk?” he said, unable to completely swallow his disbelief.

There was silence for a long moment, Yuri’s weight seeming to sink further into his side. And then: “Possibly.”

Balthus rolled his eyes and resumed guiding Yuri around the house with a bit more care. “Could’ve invited me, yeah? I haven’t had a proper drink in months.”

“Not much of a drink. Just swill around here.”

“Better than nothing. Good enough to knock you on your ass.” Balthus hopped through the doors and stopped to watch Yuri expectantly. Instead of following, Yuri stood there awkwardly, staring down toward him. Because he was a good friend, Balthus didn’t complain and just held his arms out, letting Yuri half-slide over the ledge until he could catch him. Yuri wasn’t any more graceful on the landing, almost falling the rest of the way even with Balthus’s help, breath hissing sharply through his teeth. Balthus waited patiently for him to find his footing, noting how off-centre his balance seemed. “Think you had a little more fun than you let on, pal. When we get inside, I’m going to have a look at that leg.”

He felt more than saw the way Yuri’s head whipped around. “I’m fine.”

“You’re always fine. I still want to take a look.” Yuri didn’t protest further. Alarm bells had started ringing the moment Balthus had found Yuri at the door (since when did he go out and get drunk? since when was he so careless?), but they’d been mildly worrying background noise to the priority of getting Yuri inside. Now, they screeched in an unignorable chorus that set his teeth on edge.

Once Yuri was in the house proper, safely propped up against the kitchen table, Balthus lit enough candles to be a fire hazard. It was the blood on the cuff of Yuri’s sleeve that drew his attention first. Yuri always kept his clothes immaculate, cared too damn much about his appearance not to—it was the all the confirmation Balthus needed that something had gone horribly wrong tonight.

Yuri followed his gaze, stiffening, but he didn’t actually move away from the table when Balthus approached him. Maybe he couldn’t.

“It’s not mine.” Balthus seized Yuri’s chin in one hand, pointedly tilting his face to get a better look at the nasty-looking bruise on his cheekbone. At the swelling split in his lip. Yuri winced as he was turned toward the brightness of the light, tongue flicking out over the cut almost self-consciously. “Mostly not mine, anyway.”

“You know, I’m not actually sure that makes me feel better.” Balthus marked the way Yuri’s eyes struggled to remain on him, darting toward him and then slowly sliding away. Slightly out of focus. “What the hell happened? I know what drunk looks like and this ain’t it.”

“Like I said, it was swill. Must have masked the taste of whatever was in it.”

Balthus held his hand carefully still where it was cupping the line of Yuri’s jaw, fingers just touching the worst of the bruising. “Someone drugged you?”

“I’ll be fine by morning. It’ll get worse before it gets better, but this stuff shouldn’t last more than a few hours.” Spoken with certainty. Like it was something he just knew about, something that maybe he’d run into before. Balthus swallowed bile. He didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to know, but his lips were already forming the words.

“Do you know what they were planning to do?”

“Oh, something unpleasant, I suppose. They didn’t seem like the creative types.” Yuri shrugged meaningfully and Balthus took it for the dismissal it was, finally releasing his face. Yuri worked his jaw, expression bland and relaxed in a way that felt too measured to be an accident. “Kick me around a little, maybe. Shove me in a dark room for later.”

“That’s all?” Balthus asked and immediately felt like the world’s biggest asshole.

“Yes, that’s all.” Yuri didn’t quite roll his eyes—might have been too unsteady for that—but the intention still laced his words. Balthus didn’t know when it had become a relief to be on the end of Yuri’s condescension, but that was just where his life was at now. “It wasn’t really about me at all. I’m not who they”—Yuri cut himself off, words trailing into flat, unsettling silence. And then, too casual: “They recognized me. Thought I’d make decent leverage, help them score some easy cash.”

Family stuff, then. Maybe. It was one of the few topics Yuri ever got squeamish about. Balthus could respect that. “They gonna be a problem?”

“No.” This was said with certainty too and Balthus took comfort in it.

Balthus rolled his shoulders. “All right, sit down before you fall down and let me work my magic.” When Yuri remained standing, slower on the uptake than usual, Balthus clarified: “I’m going to heal you.”

Yuri snorted but still gamely lowered himself to the floor. Stretching his legs out in front of him seemed like a disproportionately slow process. “With your magic?”

“You'd rather I splint it?”

“Oh no, of course not.” Yuri gestured extravagantly at the whole of himself. “Lay hands, oh merciful Balthus.”

There was a crack on the tip of his tongue, some innuendo clenched behind his teeth. Balthus bit it back, it felt wrong for the intimacy of the moment. He started at Yuri’s ankle, hands gently massaging at the tendons while white magic flowed through the point of contact—not strictly necessary but appreciated if Yuri’s sigh was anything to go by. When Yuri still seemed relaxed and unbothered, he carefully slid his hands over the rest of the leg, kneading gently at sore points. He grasped one of Yuri’s hands in his, brushing his thumb over bruised knuckles. He then let the same hand trail up to Yuri’s shoulder, which felt oddly swollen even under the shirt. He tried not to focus on the way that Yuri was leaning in, following his touch, muscles shifting with the slow marionette pull of Balthus’s hands. “It’s hitting you hard now, huh?” he said, not without sympathy.

“A bit.” Yuri was trembling slightly under his palm in a way that he didn’t think had anything to do with being touched.

“You’re freezing.”

“Took a while to find the place. Didn’t want them to follow me back to—to”—Yuri’s tongue seemed to tangle on the words, lacking all of his usual eloquence. His forehead creased in frustrated confusion and—this was bad. This was so bad and where had Balthus been when some local toughs had decided Yuri looked like an easy target? Just what the hell had he been _doing_?

“You killed them,” Balthus reminded Yuri, reminded himself. The palm of his free hand was beginning to sting under his nails, but he couldn’t seem to unclench his fist, knuckles near creaking with undirected energy. Those men had been lucky they’d only had Yuri to deal with. He liked efficiency, could be relied on to end things quick if he could. Balthus didn’t feel like he’d have been inclined to be so nice.

“There are always more of them. People like that.”

“Yeah, well, as long as it’s not those ones. The only people I care about right now is you and you need to sleep this off.” Balthus let his hand rest on Yuri’s shoulder a little longer, even though it wasn’t necessary. The edges of exhaustion were starting to close in on him already. He’d always been good at learning magic and Yuri’s injuries had been minor, all things considered. But his reserves had never run as deep as the other Wolves’ and a prolonged period of precision work took a lot out of a guy.

Still, it wasn’t like he could rest quite yet. Yuri probably wasn’t going anywhere under his own power in the near future and no way was Balthus letting him sleep in bloody clothes that stank like a cheap tavern. It was only a brief trip to the bedroom to pick out something clean and comfortable. But by the time he got back, Yuri was only managing what could be, at best, described as a sprawl. He dropped the clothes in Yuri’s lap and that at least got a reaction—albeit, not a reassuring one. A slow blink, an uncertain frown, Balthus wasn't even sure he knew where he was at the moment. Yuri had said it’d get worse before the night was over and—yeah. Yeah.

“Think you can get changed?” Balthus felt that he needed to ask, even knowing what the answer would likely be. Yuri in his right mind would have appreciated the effort to preserve his dignity. To Yuri’s credit, he did try, but his fingers fumbled clumsily with the buttons of his jacket in a way that Balthus just really couldn’t watch. Hefting Yuri up to start undressing him properly was only slightly awkward, more so because Yuri wasn’t doing much to support himself than anything else. It wasn’t like he didn’t have experience taking care of someone and, okay, maybe Yuri was a bit bigger than his little brother had been the last time he’d needed the help, but his hands still took to the task with familiar, practiced efficiency.

In any other context, it would have been sexy. It wasn’t like Balthus hadn’t noticed that Yuri was a good-looking guy; he had eyes. Lean, sharp angles complemented by sharp words and a sharper smile. And well, it wasn’t like he’d never thought about it, right? He was a red-blooded man in the prime of his life. There might have been a few fantasies about putting a crack in the whole bossy ice king schtick but in a fun way. And that was the point of it—getting a guy like Yuri to let loose a little bit, it’d be fun. Nothing about any of this was fun.

Apparently, Yuri hadn’t got the memo. “Oh,” he said, evidently noticing what Balthus was doing for the first time. He wavered, leaning toward Balthus in a way that made the task of undressing him more difficult on a purely ergonomic level. The sudden flash of awareness seemed to catch them both by surprise and Balthus put his task aside in favour of seizing Yuri by the arms before he could fully topple over. “I should have expected you’d want—of course you would. You hadn’t asked, but—of course you would.” Balthus didn’t even have time to process the turn the conversation had taken before Yuri continued, tone brightening with merciless forced cheer: “I don’t think I can get hard right now. I don’t know if you’re the kind to be bothered by that or—”

“Shut up.”

“I could blow you.”

“Stop talking.” Yuri did, eyes wide and uncharacteristically guileless. Balthus clutched at his upper arms, hard enough that he wondered if he was adding new bruises. The thought made a sour wave of guilt roil in his gut. But the alternative was probably physically trying to shake sense into him and that seemed even less like the right thing to do. _He’s drug addled. He doesn’t know what he’s saying,_ Balthus thought. _Fuck, please let him not know what’s saying._

Yuri was pliant and silent for the rest of the endeavour and Balthus honestly wasn’t sure if that was better or worse. He left the dirty clothes in a pile on the floor; they were done for anyway, even if Yuri might complain about it in the morning. He scooped Yuri up without ceremony, one arm braced behind his back, the other under his knees, but he took great care not to jostle him too much on the way to the bedroom. Yuri barely responded until Balthus deposited him on the mattress, acknowledging his surroundings for the five seconds it took to grumble and roll onto his side.

Balthus hesitated. There was only one bed. It had never seemed to matter before. Sleeping in close quarters was just a reality of life on the road, when they weren’t able to risk keeping a fire lit all night and warmth was a small, human comfort they could offer each other. Even now, it would take so little to settle in at Yuri’s back, to allow himself the satisfaction of placing himself between Yuri and the rest of the world. But that felt like a selfish thing to want. It had nothing to do with what Yuri might actually need from him.

And then Yuri curled into himself, just a little bit, and Balthus thought of the way he’d shivered under his hand, even healing magic not able to chase away cold. So, he slid in under the covers without complaint, sandwiching Yuri between his chest and the wall. Yuri offered no protest, readily shifting his legs so that Balthus could bend his enough that they weren’t sticking over the edge of the bed. Balthus responded by slinging an arm over Yuri, squeezing only briefly before relaxing.

“I would have been prepared to do it, you know, if it was all they’d wanted. Not drugged but if they’d made the suggestion before that. It would have been convenient.” The words were half-smothered by yawn and Balthus almost wanted to pretend he didn’t hear them. Or at least that he didn’t know what they meant. But he’d opened this door, he’d asked about it, he’d wanted to know if Yuri had been in for more than a beating. The least he could do was accept the answer for what it was.

“Would it have been worth it?” The words were ash in his mouth. What kind of scum was he to even ask something like that.

“It’s not really a question of worth—it’s about what works.” Yuri patted his arm with lazy affection, snuggling further into the mattress. “You don’t have to protect my virtue; I’ve done more for less. You either use everything you have or you die regretting it.” If he wasn’t so matter of fact about it, maybe it would have been easier to take.

Balthus buried his face in the back of Yuri’s neck, listening to the deepening slowness of his breath, and tried very hard not to picture anything when he closed his eyes. He’d always suspected—the way Yuri talked about his past, the things he said without outright saying anything. He’d hoped maybe one day Yuri would trust him with that, if it would take some of the weight off his shoulders—he hadn’t wanted it to be like this.

Balthus had made his own mess. Sure, his stepmother had helped things along in a way that was convenient for her, but he was keenly aware of how deep he’d dug his own hole. But people like Yuri and Constance and Hapi—wrong place, wrong time, born in the wrong way, and the world shat all over them. And what was left for them now, with Abyss buried under a dead goddess’s ruins?

Yuri didn’t stir for the rest of the night. Balthus didn’t sleep very much at all.

Balthus had been awake for a few hours before Yuri joined him. He had his hands pressed tight to the surface of the kitchen table, needing the physical connection to ground him while his head circled around the conversation that would be coming. Yuri’s presence was a sudden tension in the room, the soft scrape of a chair nearby. And then, quietly: “I’m sorry about last night.”

“That’s a start. Not good enough, but a start.”

“I apologize if I kept you from your beauty sleep.” Earnest confusion reared up underneath the waspish reply, but Yuri’s eyes were mercifully clear and alert. “But I do appreciate your help. And I know I owe you for it. I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”

“Damn it, that’s not what I”—Balthus paused to press the heel of his palms into his eyes before slowly dragging his hands over his face. If he had to spend another second with Yuri looking at him like _he_ was the irrational one, he was going to lose it. “Haven’t we been here before,” he said, speaking to the grain of the table. “Getting real tired of secrets, pal.”

“Yeah, well, I guess I don’t change my stripes that easily.” Dismissive, defensive. Trying to have a serious conversation with Yuri was such a minefield. Balthus was still looking for the right words to continue when Yuri’s voice overrode him, tone clear and low. “But you have my word, I won’t just drop you in the middle of it this time. You won’t get hurt because of me.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Really now, I hope you don’t mean me.”

“You see anyone else almost get themselves killed last night?”

“There’s an exaggeration.” Balthus finally turned to him again, opinion written clear on his face. Yuri sighed. “Fine, maybe I rushed into things, but it was a pressing matter. It’s dealt with, anyway. Rather permanently. I suppose they could turn up to haunt me, but that would be novel at least.”

“Will you stop treating this like a joke? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not laughing here.” And Yuri wasn’t either, not really. But Balthus wasn’t a stupid man and surely Yuri couldn’t think so little of him that he expected him to let this go. “What was the plan, Yuri? You were hurt and drugged out of your mind—what if you hadn’t made it home? What could have been so damned important?”

“They were here chasing a bounty.” The words were like a rapier’s edge and Yuri wielded them with as much devastating accuracy. He didn’t need to elaborate; Balthus could see how the dots connected with horrifying clarity. “I thought I’d scope out the situation. Maybe let them fuck me and kill them while they slept.” Yuri seemed to take particularly spiteful pleasure in accentuating the word _fuck_. Balthus didn’t ask him to stop this time; he deserved to hear it. “But I got made and it got messy. That’s just how it goes sometimes.”

Balthus swallowed harshly. It was because of him. Because of him, Yuri had—“Why didn’t you tell me?” Pleading, weak, wanting an answer that would justify this. As if one existed.

“Because you’re an honourable idiot and one day it’s going to get you killed.”

“So, you thought you’d beat me to it?”

“I was sloppy, it won’t happen again.”

“Damn right it won’t. Like I’m gonna let you pull that shit again without me there to watch your back.”

“You think you can cage me, Balthus? Trust me, others have tried. It didn’t exactly end well for them.” Yuri was on his feet, using the slight advantage the position gave him for all it was worth. “I know what I am. What I’m good for. You just let me worry about the consequences.”

Not good _at_. That hadn’t been what he’d said. “Good for.”

“What?”

“Just now. You said, ‘what I’m good for’. You don’t really think that, do you?”

Yuri stared at him levelly. “I know what I said.”

“Why? Because of what you did?” Yuri’s gaze sharpened, almost a glare. Bingo, then. “Look, you carry that if you need to, but let me handle my own baggage.” He’d pay his debts, one day. Find a way to make it even. But some costs—some costs were too high to bear. “If something happened to you ‘cause of me? I couldn’t carry that. And I’d never forgive you for it.”

A long, tense moment where Balthus almost expected Yuri to hit him or storm out or something. Instead, Yuri almost sagged, deflated. “You’re a good man, Balthus.”

“So are you.”

Yuri smiled, quick and unhappy. “It’s sweet that you think so.”

“I mean it. Maybe I can’t change the way you think about yourself—not yet, anyway. But I’m not going to change the way I think about you either.” There was a vicious satisfaction in saying it aloud. Maybe Balthus couldn’t protect Yuri from his past or even from what might be waiting for them in the future. But Balthus would never be a weapon Yuri could turn on himself and that— _that_ was something he could guarantee. And Yuri would just have to suck it up and deal.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Yuri’s voice was soft and tired in a way that Balthus decided he never wanted to hear again. It stung a bit—knowing Yuri didn’t believe in him enough to trust he’d stay. After everything. But Balthus had never once in his life backed down from a challenge.

“Try me,” he said, threading the words with steel. And Yuri, apparently unable to refuse a dare either, kissed him.

It was a sweet, almost chaste gesture and that caught Balthus more by surprise than anything. Yuri was ninety percent vinegar at the best of times, maybe even especially when his guard was down. Not that he didn’t know when a situation called for a touch of honey, but that—that had been more like what he’d seen last night. There wasn’t any space for that here. There wasn’t space for anything except for the pressure of Yuri’s hand on his shoulder as he instinctively kept his balance. The way Yuri’s hair tickled faintly when it fell across his jawline. The brief, shaky exhale of morning-stale breath in the seconds between when their lips stopped touching and when Yuri started to move away. It didn’t feel like there was any other air in the room.

When Yuri pulled back, Balthus found himself leaning forward to follow the motion, chasing the moment before it could fade into memory. He was probably gaping, but he was also absolutely certain there was nothing he could do about that. “That was”—Yuri cut himself off, swallowing the rest of the words under a sharp, surprised syllable of a laugh. “We’ll have to wait and see what that was. This is new.”

“Yeah, sure,” Balthus said absently, fingers rising to touch his own lips. “Not like I’m going anywhere.”

Yuri laughed again—just as clipped but different. Sweet and only lightly mocking. “No, I guess you’re not.”


End file.
